The Noble Beast (1)
I couldn’t quite say what had changed.
Vesta was finding it a little easier to speak with the Khan.
It had started the night after they finished their midnight rendezvous.
They met more often now, and talked even more.
Vesta no longer found their tea gatherings awkward.
While listening to the stories the Khan told over tea, he spent the quiet hours in pleasant company.
The tales she shared were far richer in themes than the ones his master had ever told him.
Of course it was only natural.
His master had spoken only of elves.
Beyond the endlessly repeating parrot, it had been like a woodpecker hammering out whatever thought came to mind.
*When I was young, I believed the elves wore underwear made of leaves. The moment the truth hit me, I became an adult.*
Leaving behind that consistent and embarrassing topic opened the door to constant new discoveries.
“Are you curious about spirit beasts?”
“Yes. Ahor gave me a brief explanation, but…”
“Spirit beasts, huh…”
“To me they feel like the creatures of legends.”
“That’s not entirely wrong. They appear in every elven tale.”
The Khan nodded and began.
“Where shall I start? There are simply too many on the prairie.”
“Spirit beasts… there are that many? I assumed they were rare, hard to see.”
“You’re mistaken. You’re picturing the enormous, powerful ones like the eagle I showed you?”
“Yes.”
“Actually, those are rarer still. Most spirit beasts look harmless.”
She even claimed to know tiny ones no larger than a palm.
“Really?”
“Absolutely. They’re adorable.”
“What other spirit beasts are there?”
“It seems you’re truly curious. All right, let me see…”
The Khan glanced sideways at Vesta. Curiosity shone in his eyes. The corners of her mouth curved softly.
“Wild horses count as spirit beasts too.”
The thought that sprang to Vesta’s mind was the scrawny horse the orcs rode.
“The horse the orcs ride…?”
“That one? No, those are crossbreeds of elven and horse blood. The true wild horses remain unbroken.”
According to the Khan, they were creatures close to the wind itself.
They appeared at the western edge one moment, vanished, and reappeared at the eastern edge the next.
“How strange.”
“That’s the nature of spirit beasts. They stand on the boundary between life and natural phenomena.”
Vesta stared at the Khan. She read the thought in his gaze.
“You’re worried the fairy in front of you will vanish like the wind and turn into a mirage?”
“I never thought that.”
“Hehe. Don’t worry. The fairy has already taken root.”
“Taken root? That means…”
“There are such things. I’d only confuse you if I tried to explain. Instead, shall I tell you a few more?”
Dancing beetles that spun rivers of starlight once a year.
Ghost horses that drove storms.
Harpies that prophesied the future—the Princess of the Sky.
And, though it sounded insignificant, a goat with an extremely long beard.
The Khan’s words sounded like bedtime stories.
“And there is Ekarkwidae.”
“Ekarkwidae? I’ve never heard the name.”
“Oh? You would know. It’s the most famous spirit beast on the prairie—no one is unfamiliar with it.”
“What kind is it?”
“The most special. The most.”
More special than the half-mythical creatures the Khan had already described? He could hardly imagine it.
“If the Great Khan rules over the prairie’s vegetation, then Ekarkwidae rules over the prairie’s wild beasts.”
“Is it a species? Like wolves or bears?”
“Like how only Ergior could become Khan, each royal line has its own species. From among them, only one individual may become Ekarkwidae.”
“I’m curious what it looks like.”
“I don’t need to describe it. You’ll know the moment you see it.”
*Ah, that’s Ekarkwidae.*
“With that presence.”
“I may never get the chance.”
“It won’t be easy. You can’t just walk up and meet them. Still, if it’s a prince or princess…”
She pointed at Vesta.
“They do not reveal themselves to just anyone. If they appear before you…”
Vesta waited for the rest.
“You will have received the prairie’s blessing.”
“Understood.”
“If you see the prince or princess, offer them the food you carry without reservation. It is an ancient prairie custom.”
“I’ll remember.”
He didn’t expect he’d ever have the chance to use it.
Noticing his reluctance, the Khan spoke playfully.
“You might actually meet them. You already received the prairie’s blessing once, didn’t you? One time is difficult enough. Two times would be even harder.”
“…Haha.”
Vesta couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer and let it burst out.
“You’re teasing me. Well, I should stop here. Vesta, where will you go today?”
“I’ll be following Orolbai.”
“Then you’re off to the wolf harvest.”
Vesta confirmed.
“Yes. He said exactly that.”
The wolf harvest.
Vesta scratched his forehead.
“…How do they harvest wolves? I have no idea how it differs from hunting.”
The Khan laughed aloud.
“Vesta, here’s the thing…”
*
Lately Leah was enduring her hardest time yet.
The past self who had chosen the prairie out of fear of the heretic persecution now seemed so unforgivable.
Who could have guessed she would be kidnapped by orcs the very moment she reached the wasteland?
What kind of race were orcs? Aside from walking on two legs, they bore no human resemblance and were nothing more than thinking animals.
“Uwooo.”
They devoured raw meat without hesitation!
The first time she saw it she had shaken so violently she feared they would eat her alive.
Leah glared at the orcs with eyes full of contempt and hatred.
The orcs had declared their name was Narinhoon. Narinhoon Ibahtar.
They had never exchanged a word beyond learning his name.
At first words were a barrier.
Yet he spoke so clearly that even a slight hesitation from her would earn the response “loud.”
Even now he was performing actions she could not understand.
He caught a goat with a mysterious bow, tore into its raw flesh, and fed it piece by piece to the werewolves he kept.
*Directly.*
He carried a piece of meat in his mouth and offered it like a mother bird feeding her young!
*
Narinhoon himself distributed the meat.
Narinhoon passed pieces mouth to mouth.
It wasn’t something he always had to do, but it had to be done sometimes.
The orcs thought it was because he had tamed a werewolf, but that was a far too long-winded reason for ears that were so short.
A werewolf was a werewolf precisely because it could not be tamed. The moment it was tamed, it stopped being a werewolf and became ordinary livestock.
Narinhoon only knew one way to become the leader of the werewolves.
Feeding him the meat was simply a way to make that leadership clear.
Narinhoon knew the human woman looked at him as if he were a monster.
Of course, as an orc who cared nothing for others, he paid no attention to a human woman’s gaze.
Burying his head in his hands and sobbing, biting his nails—none of it mattered to him.
To him humans were far too emotional and fragile, especially women like that.
He had far more pressing matters to attend to.
Living with untamed wolves was no different from sleeping under the same blanket as a pack of murderers.
They always coveted the leader’s position.
Narinhoon fixed his gaze on a black-furred werewolf. It was a large one.
*Woooorrr.*
Rebellion burned in its eyes. Ever since he had assembled the new werewolf pack, their hunts had gone smoothly.
Why did it now show another mind?
*It smells the scent of defeat on me.*
To an orc who believed himself a wolf, scent was more important than sight.
Orcs believed scent held all information. Even the scent of victory or defeat.
The scent of defeat never vanished until it was repaid with hunting.
Most orcs left that scent to rot their own flesh. Defeat was shameful but not important enough to risk one’s life for.
Defeat by defeat, death, and then returning the flesh to the werewolves of their own pack.
Making the wolf brothers claim their own flesh as defeat.
That was the orc way of life and death.
*Am I different?*
After the pack was destroyed, Narinhoon had stayed in the wasteland, yet deep down he always wanted to rush back to the prairie.
He wanted to defy orc instincts,
and return to the prairie, the land of the fairy king.
By offering the stolen goods and slaves to obtain a pack,
and then, having obtained the pack, to join another grand hunt.
*We need to gather more brothers.*
Spring had come.
*We must teach them the way of the hunt from their youth.*
The season of the wolf’s birth.